Ever walk into a room and forget why you’re there?
Open the fridge, stand there blankly, and then close it again with absolutely no clue what the mission was?
Yeah. Me too.
Last week, I talked about loneliness, and if you’ve ever felt like your brain was running through quicksand, chances are you’ve felt that too. The fog. The mental static. That low-grade, ever-present exhaustion that comes from juggling everything, all the time.
Some people call it “mom brain” or “parent fog,” but let’s be honest, whatever name you give it, it’s not cute and it’s not funny when you’re living in it. It’s what happens when your brain has been maxed out by the mental load of caring. Of remembering, of planning, solving, comforting, managing, giving, and giving, and giving some more.
It’s what happens when you’re on the clock 24/7 and the world expects you to show up like you’ve had a whole night's sleep, a deep breath, and a hot meal.
I’ve been there more times than I can count. Truthfully, I still land there a lot.
It usually hits hardest when I finally have five minutes to myself. When the house is quiet and my brain should be able to rest, but instead, it starts spinning, reminding me of everything I've forgotten, everything I didn’t do well enough, and everything I have to do tomorrow. The fog rolls in thickest in those moments of silence when I wish it would just turn off.
So what helps?
Not some Pinterest morning routine or a perfectly balanced meal plan. (Though if you’ve cracked the code on that, please send it my way.) What helps is stepping outside the noise in your head and reconnecting with something simple, something grounding, your body, your breath, your loved ones, your community.
Sometimes it’s laughter.
Sometimes it’s crying in the car.
Sometimes it’s sitting on the floor in the middle of the mess and deciding that’s good enough for today.
And it’s grace. So much grace.
Grace for the moments you forget the permission slip.
Grace for the days when cereal is dinner.
Grace for the mood swings, the mental clutter, and the times when you need to cancel plans or lower your expectations to make it through.
And if you're like me and tend to spiral at night, try this: brain dump instead of doom scroll. Open a note on your phone. Message ChatGPT. Scribble everything that’s weighing on you into a notebook. Just pour it all out.
I love using ChatGPT for this; it helps me organize my thoughts and see them more clearly. Sometimes it even spits out an actual to-do list, which is a miracle in itself. It’s saved me more than once.
There’s something powerful about giving your brain space to breathe and naming the things you’re carrying, letting them exist outside of your head so you can rest, even just a little.
And please hear this: you don’t need a Monday to reset. You don’t need a new month or a fresh planner, or a perfect mood. You can start over on a random Tuesday afternoon. You can take a breath in the middle of the mess. You can say, “I need help,” even after you have already said, “I’m fine.”
And if you’re wondering who understands that?
Well… I do.
I love feeding babies while a parent takes their first real breath of the day.
I love playing with someone’s toddler while they sit on the couch and just be.
I love seeing a tired parent laugh for the first time in what feels like weeks.
I love it all.
And I don’t show up polished. I don’t have it all together either.
You’ll usually find me with paint under my nails from a process art project or smudges on my shirt from a STEM experiment gone wild. I’m late more often than not. My husband is an incredible provider, but he works a lot, which means I’m usually doing it all solo, managing the kids, the house, the business, the meals, and the emotional labor.
My kids are loud, hilarious, and endlessly messy.
My house is never quiet for long.
And my sanity? Hanging on with a hair tie and half a cup of cold coffee.
So, if you’re there too, feeling foggy, fried, and running on fumes, please know this isn’t a weakness. It isn’t something to hide or be ashamed of. It’s a sign that you’re doing more than most people can even see.
And you’re not alone in it.
If you need someone to listen, I’m here.
If you need somewhere to go, Spark is here.
If you just need a reminder that you are not failing, this is it.
You don’t have to do this perfectly.
You have to keep going.
And even on the hard days, the ones that feel like a blur, you're doing a good job.
Even on the messy days.
Especially on the messy days.
Sarah